Fatal Connections

Chapter 13

Over the next fifteen minutes, I got a short history on Troy Fairchild. His parents were both losers. His dad spent half his time in jail, the rest eking out a living as a petty criminal. His mother was usually drunk before Troy woke up. His parents having been less than attentive, the duties of raising a well-mannered child had often fallen to his aunt and uncle.

When Uncle Melvin noticed the boy's tendency toward risky behavior as he approached his teens, he tried to guide Troy down a better path. But the older he got, the further Troy withdrew from the adults around him. Melvin's hopes that the trip to LA would bring them closer were dashed when Troy made a midnight visit to the beach and stumbled across a bunch of kids drinking. Apparently, they were quite friendly and willing to share.

"And that's how the drinking began," Stubbs finished. "He's only violent when he drinks."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know the type." A little too well.

Stubbs straightened the papers and shoved them my way. "Receipts," he explained. "For the stuff he bothered paying for. Maybe someone at one of these places knew him." His voice ticked upward at the end, turning his statement into a subtle question. Then he opened the notebook to show me the entries. Names, addresses, and amounts.

"Right around the time he dropped out of school, I found this hidden in his room," Stubbs said. "Now, that was fifteen years ago. I have no idea if he's still in touch with these people." Stubbs closed the notebook and handed it to me. I took it.

"Gotta start somewhere," I said.

As I drove toward the nearest Staples to make copies of the receipts and notebook entries, my thoughts drifted back to Nick and the Harcourts. Stubbs' account of his somewhat fractious relationship with Troy had triggered a thought that I had buried earlier. What about the kids? By now, the police must have informed them. And surely they must have questioned them.

These were kids who had been raised to a certain extent in the public spotlight, their photos posted online during summer trips, weekend outings, and in candid shots at home. They were not actors, musicians, or any other kind of entertainer. They had been raised on free trips, always on the go, always on the internet, and subject to all its joys and indignities. That couldn't have been easy.

There was also the matter of the nanny who served as a part-time parent. Possibly more than part time. Who was the nanny and what was her (or his) relationship with the deceased parents?